


Nanny Dearest

by starry_eyes



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Alcohol, Dubious Consent, F/M, Possessive Behavior, Stalking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-06 08:21:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20288374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starry_eyes/pseuds/starry_eyes
Summary: 'can you do Brahms X a prissy blonde bimbo reader who's a really bad nanny and spends her wage going out to the local pub and getting messy with local men? she gets back drunk one night to find the real Brahms waiting for her, then he fucks her to prove she'll never get a better fuck than him and that he's all she needs, even if she is a little whore'Brahms reveals himself to a nanny who needs a reminder of who she's working for.





	Nanny Dearest

Brahms could smell the alcohol on you as he watched you stumble through the door. It was late - far past his bedtime, he knew, but if you were breaking the rules, then so could he.

He stared through a crack in the walls at you as you stumbled down the hallway before you cast your gaze on the porcelain doll that was supposed to be in your care. You snorted - that wasn’t where you’d left it, was it? - but carried on up to bed, neglecting your duties.   
You hadn’t followed any of the rules listed on the paper that Mr and Mrs Heelshire had given you; you hadn’t fed Brahms, dressed Brahms, taught him lessons, put him to bed, or given him a good night kiss.  _ And you’d been leaving the house.  _ You thought your wages were essentially free money and hitched a lift with Malcolm into the nearby town every weekend without fail. 

He decided he would confront you about it. You would probably be too drunk to remember it in the morning, anyway.

You wandered aimlessly up to your bedroom in the dim twilight and kicked your shoes off. Your eyes flickered around the room at a thump from the walls; damn rats had gotten in. You’d reset the traps… at some point. You needed sleep first and foremost.

The noise came again, much closer and far too loud to be a rodent, making you jump and your pulse race.

Brahms, still out of sight, relished in your startled expression.

A muffled child’s voice calling your name had your breathing short and terrified; what the hell was going on? Had someone slipped you something with one of your drinks?

“H-Hello? Is anyone there? I-I’m armed!” you bluffed, scrabbling on the bedside table to grab the phone.

A knock on the door - then momentary silence, before it burst open in a hurricane of splinters. You shielded your eyes and your knees went weak, sending you sprawling to the floor.

“You haven’t been following the rules,” the child’s voice chastised eventually, so discordant from its owner; the man towered over you with his expression hidden by the mask. You pulled your hand away from your face as he stormed over and grabbed you by the arms, lifting you effortlessly to toss you onto the bed. In your drunken stupor, you squinted at him for a while before you could find it in you to speak.

“Who - Brahms?”

It was a wild guess, based on the mask’s likeness to the porcelain doll you were ‘babysitting’.

He studied you wordlessly from behind the mask, his dark eyes roving over your figure, and gave one minute nod. You couldn’t form another coherent word and simply stared up at him as he stared down at you. His breathing was amplified in the empty house and your heart fluttered like a bird trapped in a cage.

He wasn’t a little boy at all like the Heelshires had said - he was a grown man, almost a foot taller than you and covered in hair.

As you were caught up in your fear and confusion, he straddled you and leaned in, inhaling deeply. Was he - sniffing you?

“You smell like what Daddy used to drink,” he mused, wrinkling his nose up behind the mask. His voice had grown a little deeper, a little more mature, and a little more irritated.

“I-I’m an adult. I can drink what I want,” you replied, as if still talking to a child. Brahms gritted his teeth; no one had ever talked back to him before.

“You’re not supposed to leave!” he snarled. “And you’ve been with other men too, I can tell!”

He tried to return his voice to its boyish lilt towards the end of his second sentence, but failed, the bitterness and seeping through in his tone. You opened your mouth to protest, but any words that you attempted to say were silenced by Brahms pressing his masked face to your lips, the porcelain clinking against your teeth. He grabbed whatever parts of you that he could, eager to demonstrate his ownership over you.

“You’re my nanny. Mine!” he declared when he pulled back slightly. “You can never leave and you’ll always be mine; Mummy and Daddy promised.”

**Author's Note:**

> there pROBABLY will be a second chapter for this just watch me,, it's not mature yet but. oh it will be  
tierthree.tumblr.com


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